She Only Speaks to Butterflies (19 page)

He pulled back slowly, hesitantly, like he didn’t want to let go but knew he had to. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna mess up yer hair.” He grabbed his dirty shirt and wiped his face, then shrugged, ignoring the fact that the shirt was covered in dust and grime. He offered the shirt to her, since she was just as much of a mess as he was. She took it from him without thinking twice, wiping her own face as they both chuckled at the fact that they just used a dirty garment as a tissue.

Lee inhaled deeply and grinned at her, which she took as a silent thanks. His hand went to her cheek as he looked into her eyes in that telepathic way only Lee could pull off. She placed her hand on his cheek and slid it downward in a soft motion, watching his eyes close. Sherry’s heart began to beat faster as she watched him open his eyes, knowing she was waiting for eye contact for one reason. His eyes opened, meeting hers, mirroring that same wanting expression. He glanced at her from one eye to the other. When her gaze briefly went to his lips, he moved in closer, his eyes were hooded. His heartbeat was fast as he waited for her to move closer to him. When the gap between them closed, Lee placed his hand gently on her cheek and planted a soft, feather-like kiss on her lips.

A soft gasp came from Sherry’s throat as she felt the heat from his skin meet hers. His mouth opened slightly as he kissed her again, more deeply. As their lips broke contact, a light smacking noise was heard and Sherry smiled, thinking how long it had been since she’d been graced with that sound. Lee kissed her on the cheek and then whispered, looking into her eyes.

“Look at me, I’m all dirty. We’re sittin’ on a cold floor. This is no way to kiss a lady.”

Sherry smiled and scoffed softly, feeling dizzy from his touch. “I should get goin’. Lord knows what the town’ll say about us if I stay much longer.”

Lee rose slowly, offering her his hand for help up. When their eyes met as they stood, Sherry caught herself looking at his lips again. “Thanks for takin’ care of me last night.”

Lee winked. “You’re welcome.”

…

Leon smirked as Sherry walked into Peach Tree Clothing. “Mornin’.” He stifled a grin. “How y’all doin’ today?”

“What’s so funny?” Sherry placed her purse behind the counter. “You look like ya got a private joke over there.”

Leon clicked his tongue. “You sure know how to ruffle feathers ‘round here, girl.”

“Whaddya mean? Is this about me stayin’ at Lee’s house the other night? ‘Cause I’ll set the record straight…nothin’, and I mean
nothin’
happened.”

While she was in mid-sentence, Leon’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.

“You did WHAT?”

“Shoot,” Sherry muttered. “Okay, don’t go jumpin’ to conclusions, alright. I had too much to drink and he didn’t want to send me home in the condition I was in…that’s
all
.” She sliced the air with her levelled hand, emphasizing the word ‘all’.

“Oh, man, this is better ‘n I thought.” He was impressed. “Thank God Martha wasn’t there then. She’d a spread that news across town.”

Sherry mumbled. “Yeah, well, don’t worry, the whole town knows anyway. That’s why I assumed you did, too.” She changed tack, looking directly at him with her hand on her hip. “And what happened to you? You coulda driven me home and saved me the trouble.”

Leon wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t worry, I was makin’ rumors of my own with Steven.”

“Well, see that’s the difference,” Sherry argued. “I wan’t makin’ any rumors.”

He got serious. “So really…nothin’ happened with Lee?”

“No. I woke up in his bed and he’d slept downstairs.”

“So what’s his story anyway?” Leon took a bite of his muffin. “I know he ain’t gay, despite the fact that he’s too pretty to be straight, my radar don’t go off when he’s around, so how come he didn’t put the moves on ya?”

“Because he ain’t a pig.” Sherry shrugged. “That’s my guess.”

She didn’t want to tell Leon about their steamy kiss under the stairs, especially given the sensitive nature of Lee’s past. And she knew better than to share with Leon, he was a worse gossip than any of the town bitties.

“I thought they were all pigs.”

“So far I’ve been lucky. I don’t seem to fall under the pig radar.”

…

Sherry closed her bedroom door. Sitting on her bed she stared at the phone, nervously bobbing a pencil between her thumb and forefinger. The slip of paper with Dr. Nathan’s number on it stared back at her. Chewing her bottom lip, she began dialling the number Dr. Malcolm gave her, hearing her heartbeat in her ears.

“Dr. Nathan’s office,” the woman answering the phone greeted. Sherry noticed she didn’t have a Texan accent despite the area code.

“Err…um…this is Sherry Little. Dr. Malcolm gave me this number to talk to Dr. Nathan about my daughter Denise.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve been waiting for your call, Ms. Little. Dr. Malcolm sent over her file already.” Her voice was warm. Sherry exhaled, feeling the tension between her shoulder blades ease.

“Did you want to make an appointment?”

“Err...no, I arranged to have a discussion with Dr. Nathan before that.”

The receptionist paused. “My apologies. Yes, I see the note here. Dr. Nathan is just wrapping up another call at the moment. Did you care to hold?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Sherry pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket. It had questions jotted down that she’d thought to ask the doctor, based on her knowledge of Denise’s condition and history. Just as she finished reviewing them, the receptionist came back on the line.

“I’ll connect you to Dr. Nathan, Ms. Little.”

“Great. Thank you.”

There was an audible crackling noise as the call was transferred.

“Hello, Ms. Little. How are you today?” the doctor asked. He was also absent an accent, and he sounded young, no more than thirty or so if Sherry had to guess.

“I’m great, thanks for askin’.”

“So Dr. Malcolm tells me that Denise has been suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder for approximately two years?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And she’s been in treatment for about eighteen months with Dr. Malcolm?”

“That’s right.”

“Now, I know this may be uncomfortable to talk about, but I need to confirm some details.” Dr. Nathan cleared his throat. “Denise stopped talking following her father’s death?”

“Yes. He died in a car accident two years ago.”

“And she’s been progressing well with a combination of treatments from Dr. Malcolm up until now?”

“Yes, he’s been using lots of things like aversion therapy, counselling, cognitive feedback and a slew of other stuff I can’t pronounce.” Sherry paused. “She also goes to a school specifically for children with special needs.”

“Ah, yes. I bet an expensive one, too,” Dr. Nathan commented but didn’t allow Sherry to respond. “And she began regressing just this past month, yes?”

Sherry hesitated. “I wouldn’t say she regressed, she just had an episode that was a little scarier than others.”

Dr. Nathan spoke slower, like he was reading from Denise’s file. “Dr. Malcolm made notes that she broke a blood vessel in her eye due to exertion during an emotional meltdown?”

“Yes, that’s right. But he didn’t say it was regression. In fact, he only recommended I talk to you to get a second opinion.”

“Very wise, indeed. Our program is drug-free and focuses on treatment and therapy that has been proven very successful in test groups. Do you have a medical plan, Ms. Little?”

“I do, yes.” Sherry felt slightly uncomfortable. “How much does it cost?”

“Not to worry about that yet, Ms. Little.”

“It’s Mrs.”

“Err…my apologies.” Dr. Nathan cleared his throat. “We need to evaluate your daughter first before we can decide what kind of treatment she’ll require.”

“And how long does this therapy last? I’ll need to take time from work, we live in Arkansas.”

“Oh, yes! I love Arkansas. Been there many times,” he said too emphatically, making Sherry bet that if she asked him what the capital of Arkansas was, that he would answer wrong. “Why don’t you bring Denise down here so we can talk to her and we’ll take it from there?”

Looking at her free hand holding the slip of notepaper, she noted a quivering. “Well, first of all Dr. Nathan, my daughter don’t
talk
. Second of all, as I said, I live in Arkansas. So I can’t just pack up my life and come on out there. It’s a minimum seven hour drive, but I’m sure ya know that, since ya already told me you’ve been here many times.”

“I apologize, Mrs. Little, if I’ve offended you,” Dr. Nathan urged. “But I really think it’s imperative that we see your daughter. From what I understand of Dr. Malcolm’s notes, Denise was doing well up until this last episode.” His tone lowered as if to share a secret. “I’ve been working with children who have PTSD for many years. I wrote my thesis on juvenile PTSD, and I can honestly tell you that this is textbook for a child who hasn’t undergone anything other than the treatment she’s received up until now.”

“If Denise doesn’t get into a program…now I’m not saying it needs to be this program. Perhaps there’s another one elsewhere, maybe even closer to you. But I’m telling you, Mrs. Little, that if your daughter doesn’t get into something more involved, she may never speak again. Or worse, she could become aggressive, volatile and maybe even begin harming herself.”

Sherry felt bile coming up in her throat. The threatening tone in Dr. Nathan’s voice didn’t sit well, but what bothered her most was the knowledge that there was a chance part of what he was saying was true. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling a lump in her throat. Reviewing her notes she concluded that he’d already covered all her questions. She cleared her throat.

“I need to think about this.”

“I completely understand, Mrs. Little. I’ll be in the office all week if you have any other questions.”

“Thanks for yer time.” Sherry hung up. Placing her hand in front of her mouth she allowed herself to sob miserably until her head hurt.

…

Ned padded up the walkway, carrying a kitten in his arms. It was ginger-coloured with white stripes and was licking the salt off a potato chip that Ned was feeding him. Denise saw the kitten and ran to it. Ned crouched down, setting the kitten on the gravel while Denise petted it.

“His name’s Dumpling. Kate named him because he loves to eat her dumplings.”

Sherry smiled and bent down to pet the cat.

“We found him with his momma in the barn just the other day. There’re others around, but this one seems the most friendly.” Ned pulled Sherry to the side, out of Denise’s earshot. “Do ya think Denise might want a pet?”

“Oh, Ned, I appreciate it. But a cat’s a lotta responsibility,” Sherry winced. “Why don’t ya just keep him here and Denise can come to visit, just like the butterflies?”

“That’s fine, sugar. Great idea.” Ned changed tack. “Hey, listen, Sherry, I didn’t mean any harm the other day callin’ ya when you was at Lee’s.”

Sherry patted his hand. “Ned. I know ya care. But ya got it all wrong about Lee. He’s a good man and you’re right that he has a past, but it ain’t what ya think.”

Sherry left it at that. It wasn’t her place to share Lee’s story, especially since he probably hadn’t had a chance to share it himself, or if he wanted to for that matter.

Ned kissed her on the forehead. “Good, dear. I’m just lookin’ out for ya and the little angel here’s all.”

“I know. God bless you.”

“Now you go on in with Gertie there and get yerself some pies,” Ned chuckled matter-of-factly. “Otherwise I’m gonna be eatin’ pies ‘til I’m in the grave!”

Sherry playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “Now don’t you be talkin’ like that!”

She walked away, leaving Ned with Denise to play with the kitten.

Gertrude was sitting at the kitchen table with Kate when Sherry entered. Their whispering stopped when the door creaked open. “Y’all been talkin’ ‘bout me, have ya?” Sherry joked.

Gertrude’s cheeks turned pink. “I was just sayin’ you’ve been awful quiet today.” She hesitated. “I wondered if it had anything to do with what that doctor had to say to ya.”

Sherry gave her a knowing look. “Momma, all ya have to do is ask.”

Kate rose. “Let me get ya some pie and you can tell us all about it.”

“Well there ain’t much to tell.” Sherry sat at the table. “I have to think about it is all. He didn’t have much to say other than he thinks she’d benefit from it.”

“Well, did he say what he’d do to her?” Gertrude was concerned.

“Nothin’ more than what Dr. Malcolm’s been doin’, momma. Just different treatment.”

“How much does it cost?” Kate handed her a plate.

“He didn’t say how much it was. He don’t know yet ‘til he meets with her.”

Gertrude lifted a brow, unimpressed.

Kate sat down and sipped her tea. “Well, if ya ask me I think the little one’s doin’ just fine. No need to make a mountain outta a mole hill as my daddy used to say.”